We are waiting wing close; I wallpaper all the windows
of spaces between the thoughts of you with the times of you:
It’s all tree stems and red clay and the union
of the leafside darkness and shadow.
I never thought about the shadows until now
I am thinking.
Dandelion houseboat sway and homestead honey
at the turn of a mountain before more road.
More, where are you?
[image: Anne Brooke]